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But many others in his situation are in a different position.

What if the surgery doesn’t go well?

I quickly brush the thought aside and pull myself together. Only now do I realize that tears are streaming down my face.

Strangely enough, I can breathe much more freely. I have absolutely no memory of the last time I cried.

Do I really need the threat that the man I love might die before I can open up and see beyond my everyday life?

Apparently so.

Parker does have a gym bag here, but I grab one of my larger travel bags and pack all his comfortable clothes into it. There aren’t as many as I thought.

I add a few of my own T-shirts and sweatpants from my closet.

A strange emotion comes over me as I gather up his toothbrush, deodorant, and toiletries. It’s as if I’m removing him from my apartment.

But that’s not the case. Quite the opposite, in fact. He needs these things at the hospital now, and afterward he’ll be moving in with me full-time.

Yes.

My stomach tightens.

If I suggest this to Parker, I’ll have to take it a step further. He can’t live with me, and I try to come up with excuses if anyone finds out or stops by.

I have to be sure that, as rare as it will be, I can say with pride, “This is my partner, not some roommate.”

Resolutely, I put even more fresh socks and underwear in the bag and close it.

A glance at my phone both disappoints and reassures me. There’s no news from Ricky, but that also means there’s no bad news.

It’s already early afternoon when I arrive back at the hospital. I'll ignore Blake’s messages for now. Ricky is already waiting for me at the main entrance.

“There you are,” he greets me.

I hand him the bag. “Yeah. Check everything. If you think he needs anything else, let me know.” He nods. “Have they told you anything yet?”

This time, Ricky shakes his head. “No. But I was about to go upstairs. The surgery should be over by now.”

“Let’s go.” Impatiently, I take a step toward the door.

“Are you coming with me?”

In disbelief, I turn to him. “Of course.” A voice in the back of my mind reminds me that I’m supposed to be at the arena right now. But first, I need to know that Parker is okay.

Together, we walk back along the hospital corridors to the trauma surgery ward.

Ted is still in his spot, and this time he looks up immediately. His eyebrows rise and his mouth tightens into a thin line.

Damn. What does that mean? Is something wrong with Parker?

Ted turns to a staff member, tugs at her sleeve, and nods toward us.

The woman is in her mid-thirties. With a neat, short blonde haircut and a determined expression, she doesn’t give the impression that she’s easily impressed by anyone. Instead of the nursing staff’s uniform, she’s wearing jeans and a polo shirt. She picks up a tablet and walks straight toward us.

“Hello, I’m Evelyn Dreyer. Mr. Ricky Townsend?” She eyes both of us, and Ricky nods.

“That’s me.”